Maybe In A Different World, I'd Be Born Better
by seriousish
Summary: Reeling from the devastation he unleashed with Ultron, Tony opens a portal to a parallel universe to warn them against the same mistake. In the process, he unwittingly teleports himself, Pepper, and Maria Hill to a dimension where saving the world can be risque business.
1. Chapter 1

"Can you get through?" Pepper felt compelled to ask.

Despite the urge to give Pepper a truly epic side-eye, Maria Hill just kept splicing wires together. "Not in the five seconds since you last asked me."

Heaving a sigh, Pepper looked up at the camera in the corner of the doorway they were hunched in—one of the more obvious electronic 'eyes' that JARVIS used to monitor the house and, currently, determine that they were not Tony Stark, and thus not entitled to enter Tony Stark's lab. "C'mon, JARVIS, give us a break here. Let me in."

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Stark has clearly specified no visitors under any circumstances. It is only your existing priority clearance that has kept me from enacting anti-intrusion countermeasures."

"I have priority clearance?" Maria wondered aloud.

"No, but you are standing next to Ms. Potts."

Now Maria did look up, in time to see Pepper take a reassuring step towards her. "Maybe Tony's not the CEO anymore, but his income tax returns still have him employed at Stark Enterprises." As a consultant, as it so happened. "So as his boss, I'm telling him to _open up!"_

"Mr. Stark has clearly specified no visitors under any pineapple monitor seaweed."

"Sorry, Jenkins," Maria said, twisting the two wires more tightly together. The vault-like door to the lab slid open.

"JARVIS, ma'am," it replied through a sudden buzz of static.

The moment she saw the lab, Pepper gasped. She'd learned a long time to process the lab as part of Tony; it helped her live with the chronic untidiness that was anathema to her. To Pepper, over the years this had come to be a sign of health.

Feeling safe, secure, sane, gave him the freedom to tinker to his heart's content. He fiddled with projects until _he _was happy with them, marching to no one's beat but his own. There were things left unfinished since his grade school days.

But there was a method to the madness, a bit of structure she imposed for him. Nothing too dangerous, nothing truly out of control. Though to all appearances his lab had the wildness of a jungle, in reality it was something more like a national park. Free-range, but contained. A safety net underneath. Safe for Tony to visit, binge on, and then come up for air.

Now, Pepper didn't know what it was. The Mandarin had left it in a better state than this. The tiles had been ripped up, through more of the room than not, leaving a chasm right through the middle of it. The crawlspace was filled with the pipes of a waterworks and the cables of a server room, most bearing duct tape. Planks bridged the gaps at strategic points.

The door to the Armory was open, but most of the armor was blocked from view by the projects Tony _had _been working on. Shoved in there like clutter under a rug, along with many of his robots. So many that the door couldn't fully close. More wiring hung from the ceiling, jury-rigged together into something like a spider's web. And a number of generators—or _something_—spritzed the room with light, almost strobing, neoning the lab with multiple colors.

"Oh," Maria said, noting Pepper's reaction. "Is it not always like this?"

"No."

"Because I pictured it like this. Is this better or worse?"

"Worse. Very worse." Pepper had caught sight of the crowning horror in this haunted house. Ultron's head—one of them anyway—was piled atop Tony's work desk like a paperweight for all the scribbles and formulas he had made: a mountain of them. Even depowered, it reminded Pepper less of a face, or even of a skull, than of some great insect. Laying eggs. Starting an infestation.

Tony was in the safety shower, head down, clothes on, scrubbing himself as best he could during a never-nude act. Seeing them, he fisted the shower off—Pepper wondered if he'd actually been on fire or been making a token effort at hygiene. Both seemed equally likely-slash-unlikely.

"Pepper. Maria," he greeted casually, drawing his tanktop away from his body to wring out the belly. "Good seeing you. It's been too long. _No._"

"No?"

"No. I don't need to get some fresh air, or sunlight, or laundry. I need to be left alone to finish my work."

"And what are we building?" Maria asked sarcastically, ducking past a dangling selection of cords hammocking a surge protector. "The Matrix?"

Tony shook his hair dry. He'd grown a full beard. It reminded Pepper uncomfortably of Obadiah. "If I don't tell you, are you going to trip the fusebox?"

"That, or turn Natasha loose on you."

Leaving wet footprints across the papers littering the floor—blueprints stuck to his slick shoes—Tony crossed a plank to one of the few remaining bits of furniture and sat down in an easy chair he'd had since college. Pepper thought it'd only made the cut because there was a cooler built into its base. She was right. Tony drew out a whiskey from one side, a pot of coffee from the other.

"I don't need you. I don't need sleep. I need coffee, and alcohol, and thanks to the Irish I can have both at once." He upturned the bottle over the pot, forming a sort of punch bowl. When the bottle was empty, he dropped it to the side—Pepper winced—and pulled a julep cup from his pocket to dunk in the pot and come up with his drink. "But while you're here, I can explain a few things to you and Bad Haircut Natasha, so that's as good an excuse as any for coffee break. Whiskey break. I don't suppose any of you brought cigarettes?"

"We don't smoke. My haircut is professional," Maria said.

"Where do you work, GLAAD?" Tony took a swig. "It's like this. I'm…" He stopped to refill his cup. "These are all affectations; _no. _Everything else is an affectation. The Avengers Initiative, Iron Man—it's all bullshit, right? Are we agreed on that?"

"Tony, you have done so much good—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Tony held his finger up. It was mainly to swig. "I killed some terrorists and, what, helped design the superweapon Hydra was going to use to downsize mankind? That should've been a warning sign. A big warning sign. But no. No. Nope. Because I am—" Swig. "_Crazy-good _at affectations. The goatee, the sunglasses, the suits, the Audis… I've got you fooled. Not her, maybe." He toasted Maria. "But you, Pep, you love me. Or you think there's a me to love. Don't blame yourself, sweetie, even I was fooled. Ha! Hair o' the dog that bit me…" Swig.

"Ms. Potts," Maria said, taking a protective stance near her. "Now might be a good time to leave."

"Don't be ridiculous," Pepper told her, "I don't pay you to be."

Now Tony was stirring his little punch bowl with the julep cup. "All affectation. But me? Really? Deep down? I'm the same guy I was way back in Afghanistan. I _decided _that I changed and I _thought _that I'd changed, but through it all, I'm still. That. Guy. I make things that kill people. It's what I'm coded for. I'm a gun, I fire bullets. Everything else is just smoke screens. Throw people off the trail." He tossed the cup aside. Drank straight from the pot. "Where the fuck was I?"

"Tony, everyone has made mistakes. Everyone feels they could've done more."

"I built the damn thing."

"And we turned it on—"

"I _was _the damn thing!" Tony jabbed a finger into his head like it was a drill. "Used my own brain engrams to program it. I gave it artificial intelligence, and the intelligence it was artificing was me. Without all the affectations, without the little cues—_I'm that._" His other hand aimed at the head. The insect. "And everything I do is just a half-measure of what _it _did. Total… control and fear and hate and panic and… I need to get back to work."

He dropped the pot when he got up. It was still half-full; splashed on the ground, forming a lake to bury the papers at his feet.

Tony spoke like he was exorcising himself. "So, this, all this—fucked. No point in changing, can't change. Fucked. But multiversal theory says that there are an infinite variety of universes out there, some of which possibly can _not be fucked. _I'm gonna put in a call and warn them. You know all those comics where there's a shit future full of dead people and folks with eyepatches? _We can be the shit future. _Maybe I'm bad, but I can at least be a bad example."

"Didn't Loki build one of those once?" Maria asked. She had been following the pipes and wires to where they all seemed to end.

It was the size of a globe, obscured by multiple cords and cooling systems plugged into its scaffolding, but looking closely, Pepper could discern the shape of a gyroscope slowly spinning. The many metal rings not moving in sync, but halting and heaving at differing intervals.

"We contact another universe, another _me, _and I tell myself that Ultron _is a very bad idea. _I'm me. He'll listen to me."

"Tony, you know I hate trying to think like you with a modicum of responsibility," Pepper said reasonably, "but the last universe we contacted was Asgard, and we got Loki out of that. And Dark Elves."

"And Lorelai," Maria added. "SHIELD thing. Not important; also bad."

"We also got Thor. Imagine if we could've _warned him _about Loki."

"Imagine if the other universe is full of zombies."

Tony scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous, Pepper, that's my job. Now if I can just get this to work—oh, silly of me, left the safety on."

"He built a _safety_?" Maria asked.

"Yeah, I'm worried too."

"Do any of the _suits _have a safety?"

"Very frequently they don't have a pilot," Pepper shot back. "_Tony, _don't we have a rule about catnaps before _testing _things?"

"I'm going to send a radio signal, Pepper. It's like I have anywhere near enough power to open a portal. This'll just be a blip. After all this time, haven't you learned to trust me?" Picking up a remote control attached to a console by a long strand of wiring, Tony flipped a switch that took up the entire clicker.

The rings all spun in sync and it only took a second before the universe turned blue.


	2. Chapter 2

The state of debris in Tony's lab was an odd thing to be a universal constant, but as the last few years had proven, 'odd' had more of a claim on reality than 'normal.' A jet, a Formula-1 car, and several Iron Man suits had all seemed to have an orgy, their parts jumbled up according to Lego logic.

During the transition, a wave of nausea had tumbled everyone to the ground. Now they rose, Maria first, Tony last, registering a shrill alarm and a calm voice intoning as delicately as one might read a bedtime story.

"Intruder alert," came the dignified, somewhat Sigourney Weaver voice. "Please vacate the premises immediately or this system will be forced to take security measures."

Tony had a hunch. "Override on authorization of Tony Stark."

"Name and voice print not recognized. Please vacate the premises—"

"Not that I've seen a lot of Star Trek," Maria said, looking around, "but is this another dimension?"

"He was just trying to contact them on the radio," Pepper said helplessly.

Tony was still on the ground, as if getting a suntan. "In that respect, it was a success that exceeded expectations."

"Tony!"

"What? If your plane takes you to the moon instead of Detroit, are you really going to complain?"

"If there's no air on the moon!" Pepper fumed. "I swear, Tony, if I see one zombie…"

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

The woman with the gun was Hispanic. She wore a coverall much like a SHIELD agent would wear, although this was generic, Stark's stylized _SE_ logo replacing the eagle. It was also far tighter, far thinner. Pepper could see her panty line. Or would, if she were wearing any. And it didn't take much effort to see that she wasn't.

Seeing all that, it took Pepper a moment to realize that she looked familiar. Her facial features bore a sisterly resemblance to Maria's, while her hair was cut in the boyishly short fashion that Maria'd worn when she and Pepper had first met. If someone had said that this woman was Maria's half-sister by a Hispanic parent, Pepper would've believed them without question.

"Maria Hill?" she tried experimentally.

"Maritza Hill," the woman replied. "How do you almost know my name?"

She always thought people had goatees in alternate universes. Could you really change ethnicities instead? Maybe Maria's father had married a Hispanic woman instead of a Caucasian one, but otherwise her life had been exactly the same. Score one for nurture, zero for nature… "This is going to sound weird, but—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Maritza barked. "I don't know how you got into, but you three dickasses tripped the defensive systems, so unless I get Stark's code, we're all fucked." She showed them the smartphone in her non-gun-hand. "All of you, on your knees, hands behind your head, or I'll just let us blow!"

They obeyed, Tony groaning as he had to get partially to his feet. Pepper guessed a diet of alcohol and caffeine didn't do much to settle your stomach. He spat something foul off to the side.

"Look, lady, if you're anything like my Maria Hill—and I believe that it's what's inside that counts, not race or gender—you can be reasonable about anything except going to a hair salon."

"I grew out my hair, Tony," Maria said, "what more do you want?"

Maritza was ignoring him. "Pick up, pick up," she exhorted the smartphone, then jumped as her call finally went through. "Stark! Finally! We've had some sort of extradimensional breach—no, just three people that I can see—I've contained it, I need you to remotely disable the defensive measures. I _know _you're on a date, you're always on a date… I _cannot _call Potts, she doesn't have the codes. Oh. She does? I told you, you have to keep the code to yourself—Steve? Maya, Everhart, Cabe—Fujikawa? Did you just give the code to everyone you're banging? _That does not make it my fault I don't have the code, Stark!"_

Her dusky skin smeared with sweat, she unzipped her coverall to the waist and stripped the top off so it hung next to her trousers. This left her in a tanktop as tight and as tiny as the jumpsuit. It was cropped to just below her bust, where her impressive breasts were packed into the nearly-translucent fabric, nipples plainly evident.

"Holy crap, are your boobs that great?" Pepper whispered to Maria as Maritza continued arguing over the phone.

"Better. I haven't had any work done."

"I don't think she's had any work done," Tony opined, "there's a lot of Jell-O action."

Pepper's nostrils flared at him.

"Then how come she's a cup size bigger than me?" Maria demanded.

Maritza hung up. "Defensive measures are already engaged. He got a text alert… Potts is on her way. She'll run clean-up."

"Like… of our bodies?" Pepper asked.

"We have showers for that," Maritza said. "Up against the wall, all of you. Maybe Stark's fine with you just popping in like next-door neighbors with a teleporter, but I'm not letting you out of my sight until I'm satisfied you're not a threat. Move! Legs apart, hands flush with the wall, _do not move!"_

Pepper and Maria went, Tony groaning as he had to move against. As soon as he'd stood, Maritza gave him a shove, slamming him against the nearest wall. She kicked his legs apart. Gun still in her hand, she frisked him, moving her hands up one leg, onto his groin, up the other leg, onto his groin, down his chest, onto his groin, then over both arms, and onto his groin.

"Oh, be a little more obvious, would you?" Pepper called.

Maritza aimed the gun at her. "Lady, if that skirt were any shorter, I wouldn't have to search you." She ran her hands up Pepper's legs. "Not bad, though."

"Spin class."

With Maria, she didn't even bother pretending to check her. Just grabbed her tits and squeezed. "Fuck, we have great boobs."

Pepper looked in confusion to Tony, who had peeled himself off the wall. "Why is she—_why do you have a hard-on?"_

"The security system. It's some kind of aphrodisiac." Tony casually undid his fly, spat on his hand to jack his cock. "Makes sense. We'll be too busy screwing each other to do anything insecure."

"_That does not make sense! _Why not sleeping gas or… or…" Pepper stared at his cock. It'd been a while. Had it gotten bigger since she'd seen it last or had she just forgotten how long it was? "Itching powder…"

"Do you want to suck it?" Tony asked. "Because someone's gonna suck it, and you can be pretty possessive…"

Right then, Pepper wanted that cock in her mouth more than anything. Aphrodisiac: all she could think of was cock, pussy; pussy, cock. More than that, fingers, tongues, or her vibrator if it was on the same plane of existence as her.

Beside her, Maritza had Maria staked to the wall, kissing her frantically from behind as her flat palm pounded into Maria's ass. "Christ, if you couldn't be Latina, why couldn't you be black? At least you'd have an ass then!"

Barely prying her eyes off Tony, Pepper faced her secretary. "Maria, quit playing around and get over here! I need your tongue!"

Maria's hands were under Maritza's tanktop. "Little busy at the moment, boss."

Pepper was wiggling her panties down her legs. "Now!"

She turned back. Tony was lying on his side, naked, clothes nowhere in sight, one leg steepled, an arm casually hinged across the floor in front of him. He bore an uncomfortable resemblance to Burt Reynolds. Pepper had had such a crush on Burt Reynolds…

She felt her skirt being lifted up. Maria's face was shoved against her ass, lips seeking out every little nuance of pleasure in her flesh. She looked down to see Maria, with Maritza embracing her double still, practically humping her leg. Maria looked up at her with eyes blazing.

"You suck him," she said, unmistakable excitement in her voice. "And I'll suck you."

And Maria's tongue traveled slowly from Pepper's ass to the beginnings of her sex. Then Maria was distracted again by Maritza's mouth. Maritza moaned into the kiss and Pepper knew it was from the taste of her moistening sex…

Her mind worked overtime to fit all the second thoughts and recriminations into the time it took for her to get down on her hands and knees. _Ohshitohfuckthisisanorgyi'mhavinganorgyi'mhavingafoursomethisisadaisychaini'mbeinggayi'mgivingtonyablowjobi'mhavingsexwithtwowomenandonlyonemanthatiswaymoregaythanstraightwhyamisoturnedonwhydidilikenatashasomuchohgodohgodiamenjoyingthiswaytoomuchnottobeaslut_

She crawled to Tony's body. His cock was standing erect, fully exposed to her, waiting for her attention. She felt his nimble fingers, still smelling of oil and electrical work, gripping the back of her head. She didn't even think if she could fight the strength he brought to bear, pulling her mouth down to his manhood. Pepper just let it be pushed between her lips.

Then, as Maria licked her—she licked him. With the spade of his cock, just the tip inside her mouth, she carefully ran her tongue across the very end. The way it swelled under her touch told her she was doing fine. She'd never been much for blowjobs before. Found them demeaning. Blame it on the aphrodisiac, but she liked this. Folding her tongue under the hooded glans; finding out how much that made him moan.

"Knew you'd be good at managing the staff," Tony quipped. "Maritza, bring it in. I'm starved. Need a snack."

Maritza squirmed out of the second half of her coveralls: her underwear was in a drawer, if she even owned any, and her vagina was shaved. She showed Tony, kneeling on his face once he'd rolled onto his back, and he instantly had her moaning.

Pepper found herself not caring at all, beyond a voyeuristic urge to keep an eye on how hot it was. Hard to care about her boyfriend cheating on her when Maria Hill was eating her out; if eating was indeed cheating. She was writhing in pleasure, Tony straining too as he took her tongue and gave Maritza his. With all four of them shifting around, it was like they were all trying to keep balanced on a boat as it tossed them up and down. She felt on the verge of having Tony's prick slip out of her mouth. She couldn't have that.

Pepper opened her pink lips a little wider, meaning only to take in another inch—it seemed impossible that so much of Tony's cock was already in her petite mouth—but inch after inch were fed into her mouth, until the bucking shaft was hot against her tongue. Through it, she could feel the pulse of Tony's body. Every excited beat. She swirled her tongue over his glans and his heart jerked faster.

Pepper felt Maria's hands on her ass, dragging her body down so that instead of being on her hands and knees, she was lying on her belly, her loins resting on Maria's face. She propped herself up on her elbows and continued fitting Tony's cock to her mouth, swaying with the bounce of Maria's tongue, feeling like she was in the ocean—the tide of Tony and Maria's pleasure pushing and pulling her one way, the other…

"Fuck, _mamacita," _Maritza moaned, "you look so good with a cock in your mouth…!"

Maria's mouth briefly came away from Pepper's sex. "Imagine how you'd look with my cunt in yours."

Maritza smiled widely, falling from her seat on Tony's face to scratch and claw her way to Maria's outstretched legs, pulling Maria's lower body across the floor to her as Tony pulled her cunt back to him, all four of them coming together in one big daisy chain.

Tony thrust his hips up into Pepper's face; Pepper liked it, praise that she was doing everything he wanted that he'd never give her in words. She liked the maleness of his taste, the heavy musk that she could feel clinging to her, the steady beat of his arousal that she stuffed down her throat.

Then she sucked in her breath, feeling Maria jamming her tongue into her pussy. Pepper had almost forgotten, she was so lost in Tony's erection. She spread her legs wider, reached down to Maria's hair. Wanted as much of that mouth on her cunt as she could get.

"You taste great, boss," came Maria faintly. That was all the rest her tongue got. She started at the joining of Pepper's thighs, kissing slowly, almost agonizingly along the very edges of Pepper's erogenous zones, lavishing her tongue where she put her lips, giving Pepper just enough time for the sensation to fade into the background until she came, finally, to Pepper's sex. Then her tongue stabbed out and Pepper was fucked.

Pepper sighed, feeling the warm, wet blanket of her lust spreading over her body. It wasn't the soaring excitement of having Tony pound into her, so devilishly clever and almost overwhelming, but she enjoyed this give and take on its own terms. Especially hearing Maria gasp, feeling her body stiffen, and knowing that Maritza had just done something exquisite.

She wondered who was better at pleasing a woman, Maritza or Maria? She personally didn't have any complaints; just a sudden, persistent urge to find out how Maritza was… how she tasted, too…

Tony's hand was suddenly back in her hair, holding her head still as he fucked himself into her mouth. She looked up. His other hand was groping Maritza's ass as she gyrated on his face. Pepper imagined it was quite a view. One she wanted to make him forget about.

Pepper cradled his cock with her tongue and took over, moving faster than his hips could, pistoning on his cock, jolting it further and further into her throat. And every time her throat couldn't take its size and she had to relinquish it, she sucked it all the way out. _Slurped _her way off it. She could hear it come out of her mouth. Everyone could hear it. Tony's body tensed, his leg stiff under her head, but his cock was hardest of all. She dashed herself on it like a ship on rocky shores.

And, as his cockhead tickled her gullet, she stiffened. Maria's tonguing was easy to forget, slow and subtle; her orgasm was coming as a complete surprise. Jogging her hips, Pepper undulated against Maria's rough, wet tongue, riding it as much as she was choking herself with the sloppy blowjob she was giving Tony.

All she could do was jam her mouth down on his cock again and again, but from the tightening tension of his fingers in her hair, it was enough. Then Maria decided to give into the quivering little bundle of nerves heading Pepper's cunt, sucking it into her mouth. Pepper lost the plot, coming with a sharp exclamation: "Motherfucker!"

Tony didn't seem to mind that she'd stopped blowing him to have Maria suck on her clit until she thought she was going mad. Both his hands lodged in Maritza's ass, the big bubble jiggling on his face as he rolled it under his palms, gave it a few slaps. Then he couldn't stand it anymore. One hand went to Maritza's breasts, the other went down to his cock. He jerked it right in front of Pepper. Like he was going to come on her face. Pepper liked that.

"Fuck, fuck, eat it," Maria was saying distantly, head resting on Pepper's leg as she concentrated fully on Maritza's whipping tongue.

Pepper gave Tony's balls a lick. He gave a convulsive shiver that lasted well after her tongue had lapsed off his sack. His hand blurred. She thought he liked it. If he liked it, she liked it. Her tongue looped around his balls; her mouth pressed against his hairy sack until she could feel his testicles stirring inside. She nudged them around, lead-heavy, with her tongue and heard Tony groaning right through Maritza's cunt. Opening her mouth wide, she sucked them between her lips.

His hand was making a wet noise, beating his meat. She carefully chewed with her lips, compressing his balls just a little, then letting them up. His free hand slapped at Maritza's ass. Then he took his cock away from Pepper, unerringly slapping it across her face, one cheek then the next. It was demeaning. It was disrespectful. Pepper loved it. He was telling her he was about to come.

She got her mouth clamped on the head of his cock just in time to be treated to the salty, tangy taste of his seed—all over her tongue. It kept going, a dam breaking, she thought she might choke. She had to chug like a frat girl to keep any from spilling down her chin. But when it was gone, it felt all too soon.

She pulled her mouth away to look for more and instantly Maria was kissing her, trapping the little tributary of cum coating Pepper's mouth. Her tongue pulled it away from Pepper; Pepper sucked to get it back. They both had more than a taste, their kiss turning into a make-out session that only ended when Tony pulled Maria up Pepper's body, seating her on Pepper's face.

Pepper enthusiastically tried the taste of cunt, barely conscious of Tony's beard scratching his way down her body in a series of kisses. He only got her attention by itching it at her sex. She reached down and pressed his face deeper into her pussy, as she twisted her head to get her tongue further into Maria, as Maria saw Maritza stand in front of her and let her head be manhandled down to her opposite number's cunt.

So it went, each of them transmitting with their mouths what they were receiving. Pepper was enjoying herself and she thought maybe the others were enjoying themselves even more. She gave in completely, to giving pleasure and to receiving it, and when she had to stop tonguing Maria to let out a loud moan, it was difficult to think of how long she'd been at it.

Everything seemed to be happening so fast. It only seemed to slow a moment, long enough for her to grab Tony's head with both hands, really ruffle the shit out of his hair as she fed him her orgasm.

The others quickened their pace. Pepper went back to Maria's cunt, ravenous, and Maria worked diligently at Maritza's, on the verge of coming herself. As Tony gave Pepper's sex a kiss goodnight and left her, Maritza peaked herself, moans loud and satisfied, her sex pumping against Maria's face long after she'd finished. Tony finally pulled her away, stepping up to take her position at Maria's hungry mouth, his cock hard and ready again…

"No!" Pepper said. "You'll still have to work with her after… could be a conflict… fuck the Latina."

"Good advice in any situation," Maritza said, before Tony ushered her to her knees. He fucked her face more than she sucked his cock.

No sooner had Pepper gone back to Maria's cunt than she felt the first spurt of wetness. She swallowed greedily, Maria's orgasm starting, reaching a high peak, staying there as Pepper sucked hard, clutching her ass with both hands, trying, failing to control her pleasured seizure.

"Good call, Pep," Tony said as his cock swelled in Maritza's mouth. Pepper looked at him, knowing that in a moment Maritza would feel the first spurt of his hot cum, as she had—minutes? Hours?—ago.

She envied her. She envied him. She wrestled Maria's head between her legs, exhausted body racing back to burning need. Instantly, Pepper knew she would come at the same time as them. Maria was even better at this the second time around. Or was it the third? The fifth?

Tony had long since begun pouring his seed down Maritza's throat. He groaned wildly, fucking her throat well after the last shot had been fired, Maritza cooing needfully after he pulled away. A quick stroke and his cock was hard again. How long had it been? A second? Half an hour? Didn't matter. He was hard and Pepper wanted to suck him, Maria, Maritza, anyone. But Maria had already hidden his cock deep in her throat, more than ready to drink his cum. Now Maritza was the one between Pepper's legs, licking and sucking… or maybe Pepper was between her legs… either way it felt so good, so right…

"Well, I've had the Mexican non-union equivalent," Tony said, chugging his hips at Maria's face as she slurped. "Let's see how the great white hope does."

Pepper told herself to pencil him in for a workplace sensitivity meeting once she'd come. Four times.

It didn't feel real, the thing ending, but it was finally over. Mouths pulled free of cock and cunt. Lifeless bodies lay where they fell in complete exhaustion. Pepper could still taste cum.

That was the state the other Stark found them in once the smoke had cleared.

"Christ," Tanya said. "It looks like someone had an orgy in here."


	3. Chapter 3

Thirty miles away in downtown Los Angeles, Pussy Potts, Project Supervisor for Stark Enterprises, was checking her watch. Ninety minutes until her presentation. Plenty of time for a quick… check.

The laboratory looked more like a sculpture garden than anything else. Clean and sterile, the walls were lined with Perspex capsules. Inside each was a naked man or woman—at least, that was the impression a few capsules gave. Others resembled elaborate statues, lacking the final skin treatment that would need to be done after all internal modifications had been finished, since that treatment would make modification impossible except by wireless modem—or unless you wanted to ruin a twenty thousand dollar paintjob.

Other capsules had units that were lacking limbs, skin, even bodies beyond the Carbonadium skeletons. Some awaited their StarkTech Artificial Mind processors, or would never receive them. Without the default programming in even an uncalibrated processor, they were totally immobile, whereas an installed unit, even in power-save mode, would breathe and move slightly to give the impression of life.

Still others held experimental units: robots more like store mannequins, with exposed wiring and open servomotors. They could move and carry out their programming, but there was no reality to them.

Pussy ignored them all, long since used to this silent jury that passed its own judgment on every endeavor in this well-traversed room. Her concern was with the unit that she had chosen, the latest and greatest of the project's successes.

She walked up to the six foot four robot who smiled politely down at her. He had neat shoulders, a nicely tapering torso, and sculpted legs. His body was patterned after an athlete who had starred in some forgettable old movies, while his face resembled his creator, Tanya—though morphed into masculinity and further disguised with a beard. The in-joke would've gone unrecognized, except for his penis. All ten inches were a perfect replica of Tanya's favorite dildo, which Pussy was intimately familiar with.

"Well, Fin, not much longer until you become a man," she told him. "Any comments?"

"You're beautiful," Fin said, running a seduction subroutine Tanya had programmed personally.

"_You're beautiful_," his brothers echoed—Fang and Foom. More of Stark Enterprises' collaboration with Bad Dragon.

"Thank you," Pussy said curtly. It was only meant as a come-on, but it wasn't inaccurate. By accident of birth, Pussy had a model's body to hold her executive's brain. If the robots were designed after her, she easily could've been her own arm candy.

Her dress, however, was conservative, at least for her world. To Tony Stark, or rather Pepper Potts and Maria Hill, the skirt would've struck them as much tighter and shorter than would be appropriate for an office environment. They would've similarly noted that her blouse was skintight and sheer; it would've shown off the straps of her bra if she wore one. Her jacket only had one button—with it done up, her nipples were covered, but an impressive amount of cleavage and her flat belly were exposed, just as were her perfectly curved thighs underneath her skirt, and her juicy ass inside its tight leather contours.

Even if Fin the robot weren't programmed for it, he would want her. And Pussy had no problem letting him have her. She pulled Fin's head to her and kissed him. God, he was responsive, his lips opening, his tongue shooting into her mouth, his breath warm, his gasp sincere. You needed those things for a sexbot. He had to be more manly than a man.

Breathing deeply from the kiss, excited, Pussy reached down to Fin's cock. It rose and erected itself just as designed. Fin even grunted in distress, his warm artificial skin moving over his manhood along with Pussy's grip. And as he became aroused, artificially, Pussy felt herself do so for real. Her cunt tightened like a fist, ready to accept anything inside it.

She fondled him, felt him become heated, touched the glossy run of precum from his hole. Maybe a little more than a real man would give off. Oh well. No time to fix it before the show.

"That feels great, Ms. Potts," Fin rasped, his voice deep and masculine, vibrating deep into Pussy's flesh. It had been specifically chosen to.

Pussy felt her nipples tightening, hard, as her desire rose. She looked down at his cock. Ten inches at full erection. Made to please pussy. She could've shrunk him a bit, taken him in her ass, but that seemed like a waste of perfectly good inches.

Kneeling down, Pussy stared at his member, so well designed by Tanya, her touch of genius evident in it even more so than the rest of the body. The color was perfect, just a shade darker than the rest of the body, reddened with desire and purpling at its thick head. Purple veins covered the muscles, pumping something that was just short of blood. Pussy put her hand to it and felt the artificial blood flow. Perfect. Just like the real thing.

Now she jacked him off. The sophisticated circuity, the micro-sensors, every little servo worked as advertised, bringing up to his toes, making him grunt happily. He'd been built sensitive enough to enjoy being handled, being sucked, being fucked. Of course, he'd enjoy just about anything, but that wasn't the point. Pussy felt like she was fucking a real human being.

She bent forward, taking his cock into her mouth. It was off by a half-second, but he goggled and began to bunt himself into her sucking. The artificial flavoring pumping through his fake veins made him taste of meat. Underneath it, and she didn't know how, she could smell cum.

Maybe it was just her imagination.

"Time for a test drive," Pussy said. She pulled him to a desk, keeping her hand on his cock even though he was programmed to follow docilely. She was programmed too. Programmed to feel her heart speed up and her cunt burn from having a cock in her hand. The desk was already clear. Like many people of Pussy's world, its owner believed a desk was useless unless its surface was clear to fuck on, and had cleaned out his workspace before leaving.

Trembling, Pussy slid her skirt up to her waist. Like most garments of this universe, it was designed to fold in such a manner. Then, bare-assed, Pussy sat on the edge of the empty desk. Her breathing was fast, barely braced, her cunt aching for fullness, her nipples stretched taut. She looked at the naked robot before her, cock hard and ready, body tall and powerful, ridged with muscle, even furred with realistic hair. Reaching out to him, she slid her hands to his naked ass, pulling him to her. His buttocks were muscular and solid, good in her hands. All of him was so good.

She didn't have to do the work of fitting his cockhead to her cunt. When it brushed against her, the robot automatically calculated trajectories, then simply thrust. It was almost painful, him going inside her, the initial stroke as excited as a real male would be. She thought of reducing the size of his brutally plunging cock, but decided against it. In this case, too much was just enough.

Her restless mind, though, thought of starting him out at six inches, nice and comfortable, then as she got hotter, expanding him to eight inches—maybe eventually twelve. That would be a hell of a seduction routine.

"Fin, take a memo," she ordered, and then dictated her thought into his data banks. Now she wouldn't have to worry about forgetting. She closed her eyes and let Fin do all the work, big hands gripping her at the hips with just enough tightness to know how hot he was for her, fucking into her with long, luscious strokes, crazing her with ecstasy. It felt wonderful. Just like a good Stark product should.

"Oh Goood," she moaned happily. "I'm _doooone!"_

That was the moment her client arrived. Pussy had lost track of time and now, the lab door opened, and Justine Hammer strutted in, her sheer red robe proceeding in front of her in a languid hanging from her proud breasts, and trailing behind her in a long cape.

For Pussy, rocking in Fin's embrace, she could only cling to the robot and stare at Justine, both abashed and delighted.

Justine was quite a lot to look at. Especially in robes that allowed the eye to go right through to her naked body. And Pussy let her eyes do just that, following the soft contours of the twenty-year-old's body, wondering if she'd ever looked that good. The girl was tanned golden, obvious even through her silk, and had red hair of her own, a little darker than Pussy's. Almost five foot nine, she carried her height well: neck long and elegant, giving way to narrow shoulders and full, ripened cleavage. Her robin's egg eyes contained an excited flash, and she seemed unsure as to whether to sadistically interrupt and rob Pussy of her climax, or sit back and enjoy the show.

Pussy made the decision for her. Old habit with Tanya. "Fin… _come for me!"_

Fin was delighted to obey, accepting her signal to finish her off. He thrust into her so hard he drove Pussy off his cock, sprawling her upon the desk as his eyes got big and his face went white. He humped the air as he spurted, spasmodic ribbons of silvery jism, grunting his pleasure as he spilled. The chrome cum, designed to discourage thoughts of impregnation with its obvious falseness, splattered on Pussy's belly. It ran warmly through a gap in Pussy's almost totally buttoned blouse, dipping into her naval and making her shiver. Even if all the kinks weren't worked out yet, she loved how realistically Fin jerked his cock and squeezed off his load.

Pussy had Fin set to reload automatically, not soften and enter a rest cycle as would be more realistic. His magazine filled with the next of his ten available loads, his cock hardened again, and he waited patiently for her next request.

Pussy gave a sigh before speaking. "As you can see, when I said the sex toy of the future was coming soon…"

"Very amusing," Justine said. "But surely you don't expect us to take you at your word? A demonstration like this, with a company woman as the test case? It could be…" She looked Pussy over. "Fakery."

Pussy smiled at her, still too hyped up from the sex to be brought down by Justine's attitude. She pulled her skirt down, although that did nothing to hide the chrome trailing down the inside of her leg, and Fin's big cock still carried her juices. "Fin here—and his brothers—can demonstrate whatever performance you're looking for. Even the most frigid subject will enjoy a Fin, a Fang, or a Foom."

"Always starting with the letter F," Sunset Bain said, trailing behind Justine. "Good marketing."

She wore chicly distasteful HYDRA fashion: a green tunic with yellow trim at the gloves, belt, collar, boots, and necklace. Her bob haircut was as dark as her skin was pale. Her low-cut top plunged under her breasts, allowing both of them into open air above fabric that finally pulled together at her belly button, just where the yellow belt cut. Bare and unsupported, her breasts were still firm and proud, the nipples pierced with emerald rings.

Pussy was somewhat mesmerized by the breathtaking loveliness of the brunette in her form-fitting, form-exposing bodysuit. Her sleek, firm body was an entrancing combination: the rising and arching contours of her breasts and hips, the gentle concavity of her soft, smooth belly, the legs bare, with the hem ending her tunic cut in the front so that while its flaps hung over her thighs, her pussy was left bare. Pepper, already aroused, gaped at the honey-colored down covering the junction of her thighs.

"Ms. Bain," Pussy greeted warmly. She felt Fin's cum drip off her, onto the floor. "As I was saying to Ms. Hammer, thank you for investing in this project. As you can see, your money's been well spent. Recommitting past your initial investment will allow us to mass-produce and market these beauties…"

"I believe Justine was just saying that she couldn't see her money was well spent. As she said, you may just have invented a very elaborate pump for filling cunt with cum. Interesting, certainly—"

"The psychologists would be fascinated," Justine added.

"But not proof that one of your robots is a cost-effective replacement for a simple dildo."

"Why buy the cow when you can just get the milk?"

"There's a lot more than 'milk' to this cow," Pussy assured the twosome. "But since you believe you have reason to doubt me, you're welcome to try for yourself."

"Well, there's an offer!" Justine exclaimed.

"Unless it isn't satisfactory. As we fear. Then it'd just be a waste of our time."

"Perhaps Pussy could do something for that. She's never a waste of time—"

"No. Certainly not."

Pussy rolled her eyes. Everything had to be an adventure with these two. "Fine. If the robots can't satisfy you, _I will."_

"Go down on us!" Justine suggested excitably. "Both of us! While the other watches!"

"That's no fun," Sunset retorted. "She'd do that if we asked nicely."

"As if either of you could ever ask nicely," Pussy quipped.

Sunset ignored her. "If your machines don't perform to specifications, you'll eat our asses. First mine, then Justine's. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," Pussy agreed.

"Oh," Justine said softly. "What if we lie and say that machines didn't satisfy us, just so she—I mean, she wouldn't, but—"

"After my machines are through with you," Pussy said, "there'll be no denying that you're satisfied."

"Big talk, coming from Tanya's pet redhead," Sunset observed. "Alright. Your bots have five minutes. Then we have to be on a chopper to Silicon Valley."

"Very well. Five minutes," Pussy agreed. "Now, which one do you want? They all have their little perks, as you'll soon discover—"

Justine looked the robots over, eyes hungrily. Now that they were on the table, it was becoming an attractive proposition. "Which would you suggest?"

"Either Fang or Foom. I intend to dance with the one who brung me."

"You certainly did seem to come with him," Sunset observed acidly.

"Fang," Justine said. "Sounds threatening."

"Shit, then I'm stuck with Foom," Sunset realized. She liked a good threat too.

"You'll find all of their 'fangs' quite satisfactory," Pussy promised. "Fin, come with me. Fang, Foom, attend to our guests."

"Leaving so soon?" Sunset asked.

"What an appalling lack of an exhibitionist streak," Justine added.

Pussy's smile was made of glass. "Just a little something to take care of. I'll be back in five to see how you're doing."

Fin trailing behind her, Pussy hurried to her workshop.

Overenthusiastic finish. Delay in initial response to penile stimulation. Too much precum during lift-off. Minor adjustments, but they couldn't wait. Pussy wasn't that kind of woman.

* * *

Pussy lost track of time when she was working. Always had, always would. It took her fifteen minutes all told before she had the technical difficulties ironed out. Her workspace was big. The walls were thick.

Her phone rang. Pussy answered it swiftly, watching the new code compile. "Potts."

"Heeey, Pussy." Tanya's voice sounded insinuating, even just greeting her. "Interesting situation here over at Casa Stark."

"Casa del Stark," Pussy corrected mindlessly. "And when isn't it?"

"Well, I seem to have some interdimensional travelers here. There's a you, a me, and a weirdly Caucasian Maritza Hill, it looks like. Maybe it's just that they have the same haircut. Oh, and the me is a _he."_

"Are you high on anything right now, Tanya?"

"Life."

"Alright, well, assuming they're anything other than us from another dimension, I trust you'd expending a modicum of caution."

"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it. JARVIS hit 'em with an intruder alert the moment they blipped in here. Got 'em on total lockdown."

"Your security system works? Good to know. I kinda thought it just scanned visitors for huge racks and let them in based on that."

"_Please, _Pussy. It doses them with a high-level aphrodisiac so they're too busy fucking or masturbating to do any harm."

Pussy was, as ever, aghast. "Has it occurred to you that someone could still use a weapon while they're having sex or masturbating?"

"No, but now that you mention it, that's kinda hot. Clear me a slot at the local firing range, first chance you get."

"I'm hanging up now—"

"_No, _don't hang up!" Tanya said almost at the same time. "This really could be a serious issue. I'm looking right at me right now and I have a penis."

"See, that just sounds like last Tuesday."

"I know it does, but honestly, I'm a little bit freaked out by it. It's _big. _I think we should have the Avengers on stand-by. _Where _are they again?"

"Wakanda. Helping out T'Challa. Which you would know if you ever attended the meetings."

"I'm not good with meetings. Pings my ADD, real bad. I totally have that."

"They're held online, Tony. Practically a podcast."

"Yeah, no good at podcasts either. I start listening, I zone out, I check my Twitter, I check my Gmail… anyhoo, call them in as soon as they get back, have them on stand-by just in case these guys turn out to be zombies or something."

"Zombie superheroes?" Pussy asked. "I'd like to think the multiverse isn't as creatively bankrupt as all that."

"Well, we've got a boy Stark, so clearly alternate universes grow on trees. Love ya, mean it, byeeeeeee."

He hung up. Pussy put her phone away and headed back to the workshop.

She heard them even before she reached the door. There was the low, encouraging concerto of Foom and Fang's voices, Justine's grunting pleasure, Sunset's feminine moans.

Pussy opened the door. Justine was on the floor, while Sunset was bent over the same desk Pussy had been on. Their robots were in the saddle. Fucking their brains out. Pussy watched Justine lift her bare ass off the floor to give herself to Fang, while Sunset simply quivered and took her fucking.

"Where have you been?" Sunset demanded, unable to lift her head. "We've been calling and calling!"

"They're fucking us!" Justine cried.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry," Pussy said. "Fang, Foom—"

The robots turned heads to her, even as they continued methodically rutting with their partners.

"No, you idiot!" Sunset shrieked.

"Not _nowwwwww!"_

So Pussy stood back and watched. It was quite a sight. The robots were polite, but determined, holding their mistresses down firmly, powerful buttocks flexing as they drove themselves into receptive cunts. Justine's elegant legs were spread wide. Sunset's whole body rocked with the thrust of her lover's quick, powerful manhood.

"Fin," Pussy called lightly, "I'll have what they're having."

Fin came to her, closing his lips over hers, pressing her close to his body. Despite the abundant hardness of his manhood, his hands were crisp and cool as they worked away her jacket, her blouse, her skirt. Pussy felt desire welling up in her, pooling in her groin as his fingers caressed her bare back, as his mouth on her continued to heat.

On the floor, Fang busily sucked Justine's breasts, his ever-eager hips still sinking into her yielding sex. Foom turned Sunset over on the desk, pushing her fully atop its surface, then covering her body with his own. Sunset moaned, having him outside her, but his glistening cock moved with machine precision up her thighs to its ultimate goal.

Pussy almost envied her, even as she was lowered to the floor by Fin, his legs on top of hers, his arms holding her shoulders, his mouth on hers still. She felt her breasts responding to his chest rubbing against them, her nipples as hard as marbles. Her irrational envy of Justine and Sunset disappeared; she was only conscious of the robot on top of her, holding her firmly yet tenderly while his rigidly excited cock approached her. Vaguely, she heard Sunset's angry mutterings and Justine's throaty exhortations, but she didn't care. Her inhibitions were gone. Her business was now only the pleasure her body could give and receive.

Balanced unnaturally over her without the use of his arms, Fin's hands felt her nipples, the sensation like rising waves engulfing her. She moaned and grinded against him, her body responding without her. Her hands clawed unthinkingly at his smooth back, Fin not flinching at their sharpness. His only thought was of teeth descending on nipples, biting them gently, worrying hers back and forth with a fresh stab of delight through Pussy each time. She could feel her sex clench, hot and wet and aching with need. Fin slid up between her legs, cockhead touching her bush, her tender labia, then _her, _all of her, her all around him.

The lab resounded with the obscene grunts of the robots and their partners, each woman concentrating on her particular pleasure. Foom rammed himself into Sunset, her legs spread apart but her mouth shut tight, trying to hold in any appreciation she felt. But Foom was just as uncaring as Fang, who fucked a loudly grateful Justine, conscious only of the tightness of her cunt around him, the monotonous regularity it permitted him as he lifted her higher and higher. Pussy felt her ears burnt with the combined grunts, moans, and groans from the robots, from the girls, from herself. The room seemed to vibrate with their collective motion, in, out, up, down, harder, faster. Each woman only thinking of her ultimate ecstasy, losing any thought of decorum.

The animal in Pussy was at the surface. She whispered in Fin's ear, so the others wouldn't overhear. "Deeper, deeper, oh God, _fuck me." _

And he sank all the way in, filling her cunt with cock, her body with exquisite sensations. She moved her hips in reply, thrashing under him, gripping his shaft as he plunged in and out. His lips went wild over her skin, licking and kissing everywhere she needed him, thrilling her even more as their bodies pulled tighter and tighter together. They found a slow, steady rhythm that gradually increased. She heard Fin whisper in her ear right back.

"Tighter, Ms. Potts, tighter…"

Whoever had programmed in the words, they had the desired effect. She felt a surge of longing for Fin. She wanted him buried even deeper inside her. She lifted her legs, wrapped them around his waist, and tightened them as hard as she could. He moaned; she gasped. Pictured the smooth surface of his cock locked inside her tight flesh, being squeezed tantalizingly.

"Fin, _Fin!" _she cried. "Fuck me deeper, fuck me harder!" She was floating on clouds. Her body had left the floor.

She heard Sunset's voice rang out. "A goddamn whore, begging for it!"

"You'd beg too!" Justine said with a muffled gasp.

"We don't have to," Pussy moaned, "that's the _pooooint!"_

Not that she cared. She was just a little pedantic. Mostly, she was just thrilled with the ecstasy inside her, enchanted by the smoothness of Fin's flesh and the perfect drive of his cock, his muscular arms holding her, his force, his tenderness. Even though it was impossible, she thought he was enjoying every second he had with her, pushing himself into her, holding himself there, twisting his cock inside her, his pelvis rubbing against her clitoris. It wasn't any trick. He was made to please her. Just like his feeling of his body, his mouthing of her breasts. He was filled with a hungry yearning for his satisfaction that was almost better than the animal sex act itself.

"Ms. Potts, you feel wonderful," he said.

"You, too!" Pussy replied, her cunt giving firm contractions around his shaft. She liked his soft, dirty words as well. "Oh, oh, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!"

Fin held his penis deep inside her; it began to vibrate. All of a sudden, Pussy couldn't stop. She rocked her hips and gripped his cock and fucked herself on him. Then he was fucking her, faster and faster, his body trembling as he powered into her, his hands slipping over her face, smoothing her hair, focusing her as she felt the beginnings of her climax. She wanted it so bad.

He kissed her as she came, her body shaking, his cock shooting deep inside her. She felt the warm load of him, just the right temperature, joining her own juices from her innermost depths. Like a bolt of lightning had shot from one wall of her pussy to another. Fin shivered with her as the last drop of his seed drained from him, lured by her contracting cunt. She felt him soften and slide back out of her, but she gripped him, moved her hips. She wanted that wonderful meat inside her. Obligingly, Fin hardened again. As he fucked her, his own cum was pumped out of her in dollops.

Laughing joyously, Pussy looked over at her companions. Foom was working up slowly to Sunset's orgasm, getting little response from Sunset, who was determined not to admit enjoyment. But Pussy knew she was. Foom's cock was set even bigger than Fin's, and the robot knew how to work it. In and out, slow and fast, stopping, rotating, changing the angles. He no longer tried to kiss her, but clearly relished the feel of her on his cock as he fucked.

Justine, meanwhile, had been whipped and driven to the point of total surrender. Her eyes rolled in her head, her breathing came in short gasps, and her body twisted in on itself. She was thoroughly fucked. Pussy laughed to herself. The sophisticated, elegant debutante was gone, replaced with a rutting animal, a happy hooker, as deep in the throes of passion as she would be with the most consummate of lovers.

Sunset wheezed suddenly, unable to take it anymore. "I'VE GOT TO, TO—!"

"I understand," Pussy said with false kindness. "Foom, come for her?"

Foom plunged into Sunset, fast and hard, grunting as he seemed to pump out a whole symphony of moans from the brunette, then locking into pleasurable paralysis as he came, spurting into Sunset's needy cunt.

"OH GOD!" Sunset trilled. "HE'S COMING!"

Beside her, Justine reached out to feel Foom's balls, their action intense as he filled Sunset up. "He really is," she muttered. "Does mine do that?"

"Fang?" Pussy called politely.

He gave her what Sunset was getting, the exact same cum loaded into his weapon. Pussy thought that the hot, realistic jism would get Justine off, even more so than Sunset, and she was right. As Fang spent inside her, Justine screamed, threw her head backed, locked her pussy to Fang's crotch as if giving it to him for life.

"AH! AH! AH!" Pussy could see by the jerking of her shapely legs that Justine was in heaven. She gripped the robot as tightly as she'd ever held Pussy, delivering her womanhood up to him with satisfied grunts, her pink tongue circling her lips before hanging out her mouth.

"Fin?" Pussy said happily, rewarding herself. He plunged quickly into her quivering sex, lying flat on top of her as he ejaculated once more. They both moaned heavily.

When he was through, Fin lifted himself up, pulling out, staring down at her. All the robots had finished their programming and were now pleasantly smiling bystanders, their soft cocks glistening with juices, leaking excess cum.

All three of the women lay where they'd been fucked, beautiful studies of the orgasmic in repose. Pussy's legs were spread. Justine's cunt was swollen. Cum leaked from Sunset's box. Their hearts thudded in their rib cages, one hard calypso beat, breasts looking reddened and possessed, mouths well-kissed, bodies in elegant puddles. Eyes almost uniformly closed.

"Wha… what do you call these things?" Justine asked.

"Visions," Pussy said. "Tanya Stark's vision of a future where everyone has a great fuck on call, waiting in their car, in their closet—they can take it on vacation, they can take it on a plane, they can have great sex in the bathroom of the Metropolitan Opera… all without buying a single drink."

"Screw the sales pitch," Sunset said. "You tricked us."

"Of course," Pussy said unapologetically. "You weren't convinced. Now you are. The proof is in the pudding, ladies, and you've just had an awful lot of pudding."

"Is it really pudding?" Justine asked, lazily patting and fingering Sunset's naked belly, feeling its moisture from the fucking. Cum and sweat.

"It could be," Pussy replied, gracious to a fault. "But I still haven't heard a verdict from our Ms. Bain. How was it, Sunset?"

"You know damn well it was wonderful. That's no excuse for making us miss our flight."

Pussy played with her hair, always loving its dampness after a good, hard fuck. "Just think, we three are the first women in the world to have this experience. Sunset, you're the first brunette robotkind has ever fucked. What a story that'll make in your memoirs."

Sunset tried to glare at Pussy, but even she was too satisfied to stay mad. "I'm not going to forgive you. I'll be ignoring you for months and months. You'll have to make this up to me, to us, in a big way."

"I thought we already got the big way," Justine giggled.

Pussy gestured loosely to Fin. "Honey, get some towels. We need to wipe off this cum before it becomes a fashion statement."

"Yes, ma'am," Fin said, bustling off.

"They also cuddle," Pussy said cheerfully. "The cumshot is somewhat randomized, you know. The amount of ejaculate depends entirely on their readings of their partner. And oh, Sunset, what a load you merited."

"I'm probably pregnant with Terminators," Sunset said in a huff.

"He carries ten loads, if you want twins."

"No, thanks. I'm ready for a change of pace after all that robotfucking. I think this might've put me back on to Asian men…"

Pussy cooed sympathetically. "C'mon, Sunset. What'll it take to make you like me again? Partners shouldn't fight…"

"If we sign with you, the first two units are ours," Sunset said. "These two would be fine."

"These three," Justine said quickly.

Pussy nodded reluctantly. "It's a deal."

"Deal recorded," Fin chimed, in his programmed capacity as public notary.

Sunset was determined to be cross, though, even as she shook with a little aftershock and more cum trailed from her pussy. "We still missed our flight."

"Just to sweeten the deal," Pussy said, "I could eat your asses out anyway."

"That'd be good," Justine said. "But first, call your factory. They should be manufacturing these things right now."

Sunset nodded in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

Some days, Peggy regretted following in Steve's footsteps. The test with the refined Super Soldier Serum, the Infinity Formula that had made her functionally immortal, then the freak accident that had made the injection invalid, ensured she would always be an oddity of nature. She'd served SHIELD faithfully, rising to Director and being able to captain the ship with complete continuity for decades on end, and even after the collapse of SHIELD (or rather, HYDRA), she'd been able to find a place with the Avengers, her old student Tanya having built Peggy a suit much along the lines of her own. Now she was a superhero, wielding power Steve could only dream of.

But on the other hand, it meant she had lived to see a day like today.

"_Two _Starks?" she said into the communicator, getting a nod from the projection of Pussy on her HUD. "Crikey o'riley…"

"If it's any consolation," Pussy said. "There seems to be another me. And another Maritza, but more Caucasian."

"How odd," Peggy replied. "No rhyme or reason to it?"

"None so far. I'm just wrapping up a business deal; I'm heading over to Tanya's now. She thinks this little craziness might lead to something bigger."

"Two Starks leading to disaster? Safe bet. We're about done here. M'Baku's attempted coup went nowhere. Hulk's working on the last of the drones now; we left them running to give him a little work-out. You know how he gets."

"Mmmm," Pussy remembered well, smiling fondly. "If takes more than some evil robots to tire him out…"

"Don't worry, Potts, I don't intend to partake without you. Actually, I have a theory about that I'm antsy to try. Must dash at the moment, though. The king has something to say."

"Put a bow on it first chance," Pussy said. "Tanya's gotten into enough trouble to know when some is on the way."

"Will do. Carter out." Peggy closed the communication channel, gave her HUD a quick looksee, checked the radar. Nothing out of the ordinary. T'Challa was coming into the center of the village, as planned. She took off, setting her suit to hover, and zoomed her visor in on him as he prepared to speak.

The speaking arena of the Wakanda was not ostentatious among the city of Jamella. There were many sprawling towers that surpassed its grandeur, and even on the cliff it overlooked, power generating turbines, by happenstance similar in design to the rotors that once bore SHIELD's Helicarriers, hung from that same cliff, dwarfing it. A great limestone statue of a panther, fifty feet in length and painstakingly preserved since the time of the Pharaohs, sat among the cityscape with greater splendor.

But there was something special about the arena, an open-air amphitheater where many times, the right to rule Wakanda had been contested, won, lost. It was still adorned with the lush animal skins and carven tusks, some dating from prehistoric times, that had marked it as a sacred place when Wakanda was in its infancy.

The Chamber of Combat was at present underneath the floor of the arena, ready to be uncovered and rise up to serve at a moment's notice, but that would not be necessary. M'Baku's would-be coup had not been in accordance with Wakandan law, a dishonorable attempt to overwhelm the ruling government by force of arms. He would not be granted a trial by combat.

T'Challa stood in the raiment of his office and the costume in which he had become known around the world: the garments of the Black Panther, still battle-damaged and bloodied from the fight. His mask had been removed, and his handsome face, its thousand-yard stare more intense than ever, surveyed the crowd. There were those in attendance in the stands, simple citizens of Wakanda and loyal members of his government, come to watch. There were also those on the ground with him, captured enemies, bonded and chained, kneeling in accepted defeat. They had known the risks and now, with what honor remained them, would pay the price.

There were too many to simply execute. Taking even a single life in cold blood raked at T'Challa's nature, even as rightful punishment for treason. Moreover, as King he was expected, by his people, his allies, and most of all himself, to be attuned to his kingdom. To have grown so unpopular that such a large uprising could take place—one actually requiring the assistance of outsiders to subdue—it was a shocking turn of events.

And where one rebellion had grew, another had flourished. He would not rule only out of grudging respect or fear. He would be embraced by his populace, with their full trust and mandate, or he would not rule at all. And so, he would have to win back his kingdom, answer to the charges that had been brought against him, even in so unforgivable a manner as open warfare, with all the attendant loss of life and property.

Walking slowly, both for dramatic effect and so as not to rip the stitches that had so recently closed his wounds, T'Challa approached the leader of the uprising. His old rival, M'Baku, who had long questioned his leadership and sought to undermine him. T'Challa thought he had the man's measure. His lust for power was such that he probably would have taken up arms against his king on the first day of T'Challa's rules, if his canny mind had judged he would be successful. T'Challa did not respect or like the man, but he was the one who held the secret of how T'Challa's people had turned so surprisingly against him.

It was true what his father had said, T'Challa thought to himself. An enemy is often one's best teacher.

"M'Baku!" T'Challa called, and for all his exhaustion, his voice rang out as stridently as it would on the dawn of a fresh day. "You have gathered these people's trust and in doing, only led them to crime and loss. Explain yourself!" He paced before the ranks of traitors, feeling an odd sense of pride in how his countrymen faced him: beaten but unbroken, willing to hold their heads high and accept the consequences of their actions. "I am your king. I do not feel anger or affront at your actions. I only seek to know how such a great gulf could form between us. Have I not ruled with compassion? Have you not found my back strong when it was required, but my touch soft when it was able? How then can you turn against me?"

"We turn not against you, sire," M'Baku said, his wheedling voice almost driving T'Challa to uncontrollable rage. "We turn against the path you have set us on. Wakanda is strong, yes—your peerless stewardship has made it so. But how long will this prosperity last when you put yourself in harm's way time and again? When you ally yourself with foreign influences, any one of whom may seek to poison us from within? And most especially, when you have not produced an heir to lead us into the future when you are gone, oh, let it be many moons until such a grave day comes to pass!"

He threw his arms up to the heavens in open beckoning. T'Challa would not offer the warmth of his spit to such a performance. Before this public hearing, his sister had come to T'Challa's chambers to beg for his life, promising anything: M'Baku's sworn loyalty and denouncement of his fellow traitors, even her own body to sway T'Challa. And T'Challa knew M'Baku had sent her, his own sister, on that disrespectful errand. The man had no loyalty to any but himself.

"As king, I am an example to my people. I live my life to its fullest, not turning away from risk, neither courting it foolishly or impetuously. In this manner, I am unafraid to die. As for my allies, the Avengers, I trust them with my life, and moreover, they trust me and Wakanda besides. It does not weaken us to have others we may rely upon in times of crisis. When the Chitauri invaded New York, the Avengers stopped them. If those insects had attacked Wakanda, would you have us fight alone, or would you have these champions shoulder the burden alongside us?"

"Kulipiza kisasi!" someone in the crowd shouted out. Others took up the cry. "**Kulipiza kisasi!** **Kulipiza kisasi!**" A borrowed phrase from the Swahili language. It had come to mean Avengers.

In the fight for Wakanda, the population had been greatly impressed by the bravery and skill the Avengers had shown against M'Baku's hacked security drones, as well as their obvious care in protecting civilians and leading relief efforts after the battle. Whatever doubt there was in T'Challa's regime, it did not extend to his alliance with the Avengers.

T'Challa waited a moment, letting the emotion spill over, gesturing to the Avengers who stood along the highest points of the amphitheater, watching closely for any further treachery. There was Spider-Man, resting in a web-hammock, giving the crowd an appreciative thumbs up. Silk, the rookie, who had joined with them after freed from a prolonged HYDRA attempt to replicate Spider-Man's power set. Spider-Woman, a last generation HYDRA experiment who had led the fight against them as soon as escaping, resulting in the downfall of their cell inside SHIELD. Ms. Marvel, an American military pilot whose receipt of alien powers had made her simply too strong not to be an Avenger. Black Widow, the Russian spy. Peggy Carter, carrying on the legacy of Tanya Stark by wearing her tech into battle. Psylocke, the mutant telepath who had left the X-Men to fight for acceptance as an Avenger. Songbird, the former supervillain, who now fought alongside her one-time enemies. And Hulk, who was not present, but could be heard in the distance, disposing of the few remaining drone.

"Your friends are indeed mighty, majesty," M'Baku allowed. "But will they rule in your stead when you fall? One of your royal duties is to produce an heir but if, heaven forfend, you had lost your life today—" M'Baku allowed himself a smile only T'Challa could see. _Next time, _it seemed to say. "The great royal lineage of Wakanda would be at an end. Are you unwilling to produce an heir, sire? Or… unable?"

"You dare—!" T'Challa began, his anger getting the best of him, driving him to take a step toward M'Baku with risen hand. M'Baku cringed and T'Challa stopped himself. There was no honor in engaging a worm in combat. "As with my father and his father before him, when I find a suitable consort, we will be properly married and a heir borne in due course. How can it be otherwise? Do you expect me to 'rush' finding Wakanda's next queen? Or speed into being a father as loving and knowledgeable as my T'Chaka was?"

"Perhaps you spend more time amongst your alliances than here on your native soil, where a worthy queen and mother could present herself?" M'Baku 'suggested.' Murmurs of agreement went up from his fellow prisoners. T'Challa could only wish his oily manner was as obvious to the people as it was to him.

"There you are wrong," T'Challa said. "In traveling the world, I find myself in the company of heroes, many of them exceedingly beautiful, intelligent, and courageous—women Wakanda would be truly fortunate to have as queen!"

Now discontent went through the crowd, even the gathered subjects who had remained loyal. The prospect of T'Challa being wed to an outsider—a white-skin, even—was discomforting to all but the most liberal of Wakandans.

"You have seen them in battle!" T'Challa reminded them, voice raising. "Would any of you claim that there is a Wakandan alive who could fight harder than them, even among our men?"

"And they would have you as a mate?" M'Baku asked, now no longer bothering to hide his disdain. His previous obsequiousness dropped away like a shed snakeskin. "We know how the outside world looks upon Wakanda! With jealousy and derision! None of them would consent to lay with you—even if you were capable!"

M'Baku's defiance was now open disrespect. T'Challa stepped forward to slap him hard across the face. "Your next insult to the crown will find you against my hand again, and this time I shall come away with your entire head!"

T'Challa would never admit it, but M'Baku's craven cowering was quite satisfying.

"You doubt my allies and my virility!" he bellowed to the crowd. "If it please you, then, a demonstration of both may be arranged! Songbird! Widow! All who are willing! Come! Let us prove to these naysayers what we already well know…"

* * *

A cool sea breeze swept up the side of the cliff, borne in by the river that had carved through the land to form the canyon that the amphitheater abutted. Natasha stood on the edge, listening to the surf churning restlessly from the mouth of the river, crashing down the rocky rapids. She looked over at Melissa, her new teammate Songbird, and knew she felt the same way. Restless and churning.

"He asked for me," Melissa said, her face as colored as the pink dye in her hair. "I've never been with him before… never been with a black man before…"

"It's just like any other man," Natasha assured her. "You should have him. You fought well. You've earned this."

"I don't know… I mean, can I really…"

Natasha tipped off the side of the cliff, her hand held out. She felt Melissa grab it, arresting her over the moon-bathed water that pitched and tossed below her. She felt, to her bones, the chill of the salty breeze as Melissa pulled her back.

"I trust you," Natasha said, back on stable footing. "T'Challa trusts you. We celebrate that trust."

She pulled the zipper down her catsuit. T'Challa was approaching this precipice, jutting from the edge of the cliff like a long, flat tongue out of the mouth of the amphitheater. His powerful body ceased to blend with the night as he shed his dark camouflage, brown skin glimmering with sweat standing out in the night. As dark and deadly as the waters rushing far below.

"I have long thought, Natasha, that you wear quite the ensemble. Simple, yet elegant."

Natasha smiled at him as she stepped out of it. "It'll hold me until something better comes along to keep me warm. But you mentioned Melissa…"

T'Challa looked at her. "She does not wish—?"

"She's uncertain," Natasha said. Simply. Elegantly. "But she could just watch us."

T'Challa nodded. "Many will. But that may still embarrass her. Perhaps she should wait in the Quinjet…"

"It's not like t-that!" Melissa stammered, her blush deepening. "I'd like to. I mean, I want to… but I'm… I'm…"

"Scared?" Natasha asked.

"I'm not scared!"

"Good. There's nothing to be scared _of," _Natasha remarked as she removed her bra and panties as well. She stood, exquisitely unashamed, in the night air. "We'll take good care of you."

"Promise?" Melissa asked.

"It would be our fondest pleasure," T'Challa assured her.

Melissa quickly began undoing her uniform. She was scared to death, but she'd rather die than miss out on this, sex with her heroine, Black Widow. T'Challa had planned this expertly. The prospect of being with Natasha was just enough inducement to get Melissa to take a chance on him. Now he felt his balls tighten as his strategy came to fruition.

Melissa was a slender girl, her body fit and trim, breasts modest—a quiet physique for a quiet woman. Her features had a striking Jewish heritage, with a nose of great profile, wide eyes, and a sweetly pointed chin that made her appear cute in the manner of an Audrey Hepburn or Meg Ryan. The irony _being _the irony. Her superpower was sonic blasts from an implant in her throat, while her eroticism came from the very shyness and litheness of her, the sylph-like innocence of her manner. It was just a matter of finding her voice.

Not that T'Challa didn't have a healthy appreciation for Natasha's more conventional beauty. She was well-rounded in comparison to Melissa, the same height, but with a good deal more curves, and a good deal more confidence in them. The confidence was well-placed. Even her hair was curvy, the red falling in gentle waves below her neck, meeting the smattering of red freckles upon her shoulders. Her face was chiseled, sculpted, but with just the right amount of softness, beautiful in a European fashion.

Natasha took up position behind Melissa, kissing her neck and massaging her shoulders as the naked T'Challa approached. No matter how slowly he approached, he had the manner of a lion stalking its prey, and Melissa smiled, both nervously and daringly: eager to meet the big cat.

He knelt before her. First taking her hand and debonairly kissing its back, then leaning forward to kiss her naked belly. Natasha's hands moved up to Melissa's temples, rubbing them as now T'Challa bowed down with fiendish grin. He tongued Melissa for a tasty moment, not stopping until Melissa reached out and stroked the back of his head encouragingly. Her moans and sighs were without end.

"Now give her some cock," Natasha said, and if it were possible, Melissa became even more aroused. She nodded vigorously.

T'Challa stood, embracing Melissa from the front just as Natasha held her from behind, both of them holding her in place for T'Challa to aim himself at her cunt and push into her soaking pussy. Melissa wailed as his fat cockhead throbbed in her entrance, and she only got louder as he rubbed himself up and down through her open slit. His plump head had completely vanished, Melissa's hairy pussy—one half pink, the other white—collaring his shaft, seeming to drag him deeper with every breath.

"Shove that big _fucker _up into her!" Natasha panted, punctuating the remark with a vicious lick up Melissa's cheek and a hickey delivered to the side of her neck.

Melissa agreed, so enthusiastic it was like she was being used by Natasha as a puppet. "Give me more, T'Challa… give me all of it!" All said while Natasha's lips were a suction cup upon her throat.

T'Challa's hands rasped down her hips, fingers curling along the curve of her ass. He pulled Melissa to him, his cock entering her to the hilt, not stopping until her labia was plastered to the base of his prick.

"Oh my God!" Melissa cried, her voice reverbing with enough of her power to stir her own hair as well as Natasha's. Her cunt had been totally stuffed for the first time, and she loved it, eyelashes fluttering, lips parted in a soft moan. "It's so good…"

T'Challa held himself inside her, grounding his cock in her sex, but not yet pumping into her. He was fascinated by her tightness, her unfamiliar grip on him. She clung to his cock, practically sucking on it with her body. He hunched over her, kissing the deliriously happy girl, then moving past her to Natasha and her plump, upthrust breasts, taking her left nipple between his lips and suckling hungrily.

Melissa arched her body, hooking her thighs around T'Challa's flanks and locking her heels behind his waist. With Natasha holding her up, it was easy. His cockhead flared deep inside her and she kissed the top of his head while he still bent to Natasha, imagining having that big cock of his flooding her with cum, his jism mixing with her own wet climax.

"Pump it into me!" she gasped, her voice rasping subsonically. "Fill my cunt with your… _you!"_

T'Challa groaned and drew out slowly, raising his head from Natasha's breast as well. When only his cockhead was inside her, his wet cock throbbing between them, he fed it to Melissa again. He sunk balls deep into her and Melissa loved it, gyrating and churning with the building friction. She whipped her hips against his, matching T'Challa's vigorous strokes, slamming herself onto his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she groaned as he pushed himself into her with lustful thrusts, Natasha barely able to hold Melissa up as he powered into her. Behind the two women, the cliff opened into a looming gulf. Natasha dug her feet in, even as she added her chorus to Melissa's limited vocabulary.

"Hammer her cunt, Panther! Fuck her ass off! Fuck that cunt to jelly!"

T'Challa rammed in furiously, his prick swelling with every stroke. His balls slapped against Melissa's ass like wrecking balls, splashing in the cream that seeped from her cunt. Her thighs tightened and relaxed, drawing him in and letting him pull out, her thin belly becoming a hollow cup for him to fill. Melissa relaxed into Natasha's grip as well, drumming her heels on T'Challa's ass, feeling Natasha's hands reaching around to her breasts, teasing her nipples as much as T'Challa's hairy chest was.

Her cunt was sucking on T'Challa so tightly that he had to yank hard in order to withdraw, and each time, her pearly juices seeped out in fresh waves. It was no surprise that the next thrust brought Melissa to orgasm, prolonged and leaden, his pussy seeming to grow heavy with pleasure, laden with it as she just kept _coming._

T'Challa slammed himself in harder and faster, pumping her climax to the peak. Natasha watched with fascination, head down, eyes glowing as she watched Melissa's cunt pounded to orgasm with five million other people. She had the best view.

* * *

Peggy envied her. She seethed and fumed, her armor's sensors zooming in on Natasha's neglected pussy, confirming her body heat had risen, all her erogenous zones prepped for firm usage. Natasha had been her protégé, her best field agent, and a dear friend. It was a shame that her tasty cunt was empty, her tongue only licking her own lips, her mouth filled only with saliva.

* * *

Natasha slid down, onto her knees, behind Melissa's jerking ass, T'Challa's hands holding it up with ease. She flashed her tongue around T'Challa's balls, up his shaft, along the edges of Melissa's well-filled pussy. She spread her hand over Melissa's cunt, feeling T'Challa throbbing inside it, then drew her slurping tongue up the crack of Melissa's ass. Into her hole.

"Ohhh! Natasha's licking me!" Melissa cried, instinctively tightening on the spy's probing tongue.

"She's good, isn't she?" T'Challa said. He slapped Melissa's ass beside Natasha's head. "Give your tongue to her. Ream her out."

"Oooh… yes!" Melissa wailed encouragingly, loving the naughty little embellishments of being in a threesome. It was driving her wild, she knew it, she loved it, and she yearned for them to join her at the very crest. "Shoot into me, Panther!"

Natasha slid down to lick his balls some more as they rolled like bowling balls, weighted down with his heavy loads. She could feel them thrumming violently. "He's gonna cum!"

"Yeah, yeah, feed it to me!" Melissa gasped, heaving her ass against T'Challa with his cockhead in the very core of her body, his seed suddenly splashing inside her, steaming hot. "YES! I love it! Love it…"

T'Challa clawed into Melissa's ass, grinding her against himself as he filled her cunt with spurt after spurt. Melissa was so full she felt like a bicycle tire being pumped up, his thick cum splashing inside her loins, pouring from her cunt. Natasha licked and sucked at his rippling balls as they shot into Melissa, feeling them finally still, drained, yet still heavy.

Melissa continued to pump her pussy on T'Challa's prick, bouncing up and down on the hardness he so thoughtfully provided her, grounding out the last sweet spasms of her pleasure with a sea of cum inside her.

"Mmmmm…" she purred. "Fucking is wonderful."

T'Challa set her down slowly. Spread-eagled on the ground, her cunt remained open in a wide oval, white with his cream. Natasha knelt down and clamped her mouth to Melissa's womanhood, hungrily sucking both the girl's juices and the man's seed. When she looked up again, it was without surprise that she saw T'Challa was still hard.

Melissa let out a yawn. There was only so much cock she could take.

"Guess that makes it my turn," Natasha said. "Which means it's your call, o king: ass or pussy?"

* * *

Silk watched in intrigued surprise, feeling a familiar itch. A way too familiar itch. Ten years in a bunker, nothing but itches, she was ready to act on them. Especially after seeing how nice it'd been for Melissa.

It was funny. She and Jessica Drew had been part of the same HYDRA experiments, trying to create a cost-effective super-soldier—one spider bite and instant army. But Jess was nothing like her—short-tempered and cold to her. Melissa, despite practically having been in HYDRA, was more her speed. Older, but totally understanding. A child at heart, sorta, with her own troubles. Troubles that not only made her sympathetic to Cindy, but understanding. She knew when Cindy didn't need to talk about it, she needed _quiet._

She would understand, too, how Cindy needed what Melissa had. Needed it so, so bad.

Cindy approached Iron Patriot, who was pretty approachable, despite being covered head to toe in armor painted like a Union Jack. She wasn't scary, like Natasha, or really scary, like Betsy. "Is he really going to fuck her?"

"Yes," Peggy answered.

"Can he fuck me too?" Silk asked.

"Oh yes…"

She pushed Silk forward and soon Silk was walking, soon running, to join Natasha, T'Challa, and the unconscious Melissa. Ripping out of her silken clothes like they were nothing. Displaying her body without shame to all who watched, as if to make up for having no one to see it in the long years underground. The sea breeze caressed her trim, supple body, welcoming her impudently thrusting breasts into open air, puckering the tiny caps of her nipples, making them hard and round.

She still moved with the liquid grace that was hers, but outside the suit that her ass filled out so nicely, the gentle sway of her hips was revealed to be full and sensuous. Her legs were trim and graceful as a show horse's, all of her on display with a keen eagerness to please that made one feel appreciated and gratified to see her nudity, from the top of her jet black hair, down the pale oval of her pretty face, to her trim waist and flaring ass, all the way to the dainty feet that shreds of her costume clung to almost playfully.

She had spent ten years in a bunker before being freed. She was worth the wait.

T'Challa was getting sucked by Natasha, returning to full hardness before he choose between the smooth ride of her cunt and the incomparable tightness of her ass. He stood proudly, neither vainglorious nor falsely modest, as Natasha knelt before him, lapping at his prick. Then the redhead moved over, making room for Silk to kneel beside her. The two shared a smile, united by lust, acknowledging what they were about to have in common, before T'Challa thrust himself between the two women. They both tongued his manhood, making it pulse and throb as they kissed each other around his girthy shaft.

"This is so delicious!" Silk enthused. "You think it's T'Challa or Melissa that tastes so good?"

"We can find out later," Natasha promised, gazing lustfully at Melissa's sprawled out body.

"It will have to be much later," T'Challa advised them. "I think she will taste of me for quite some time."

"Not a problem on your end," Silk quipped. "Since we're cleaning your end!"

"Yes. Very thoroughly," T'Challa groaned, pleased. He rested his hands on their lovely heads, red and black, and felt the bobbing of their bodies as they devoured shaft and testicles alike.

* * *

They were not the only ones who gazed longingly at T'Challa's cock, just as T'Challa was not the only one lusting after Cindy and Natasha. Peggy could resist no longer. She hit the Override on her suit, the entire apparatus opening up and discharging her in one fell swoop. Outside its armor, she was entirely naked, and so hot she seemed to glow. She stampeded through the threesome, hoping to make her arousal and her approval and her intentions clear from the start. Though she knew she was team leader, she didn't want her presence to interrupt the proceedings. Just shore up the ranks.

Her face was radiant with desire, her weighty breasts swollen with need, her shapely thighs moving in arresting sympathy. Naked and smiling, Peggy took up position behind the kneeling girls, facing T'Challa as he looked down on them and waiting to be noticed.

It happened as he plunged into Cindy's mouth for the first time. The tightness of her inexperienced throat was so good, her gagging so endearingly pleasurable, that he arched back, head lifting to see Peggy facing him.

"My!" he exclaimed. "You do intend to test me."

Natasha looked over her shoulder and gulped when she realized she'd been caught in the act. Cindy gave a squeal of panic. Both had the irrational thought that this had been a test and they'd failed.

But soon they realized Peggy would not undress to dress them down.

"Tasha's like a daughter to me," Peggy explained, patting her red head. "Mummy wants her little angel well-satisfied…"

She displayed the one remaining piece of the Iron Patriot armor she had left behind—a dildo in blue and red that she often used internally during long missions. She knelt behind Natasha, giving her a gentle shove between the shoulder blades, urging her to continue. Natasha took T'Challa in her mouth and faithfully sucked, determined to please both him and her mentor, while Peggy used the dildo to feed a slow stroke up her cunt.

"Oh!" Silk rasped, watching, licking her lips. "You're fucking—fucking her pussy—fucking her pussy with a big prick—you're—you're gonna make her cream!"

Peggy ground the dildo in nearly to its base, watching proudly as Natasha swallowed T'Challa's prick at the same time. Silk had the right idea, she decided. Verbal feedback.

"That's good. Suck his meat, Natasha, that's right!" Peggy encouraged. She leaned her head over Natasha's shoulders, gazing at the Russian's lips as they pulled up and down on T'Challa's shaft. "Yes. Jolly good. And perhaps… if you wouldn't mind… that does look quite tasty…"

Natasha drew her mouth away, using her hand to offer the cock to Peggy like a weapon, and her senior gleefully accepted it into her mouth and sucked adoringly on it. She tasted residue of cum, the lingering traces of Melissa's cunt, and a little of Natasha's comingled lipstick and mouthwash. Bad operational parameters, having it be so obvious who T'Challa had fucked to anyone who would pay attention, but she was a superhero now, not a spy. That came with all kinds of fringe benefits.

When Peggy took her mouth away, T'Challa's cock was practically steaming, and Cindy was rubbing against Peggy, trying to get in on her and Natasha's sucking as she had before. Peggy pulled back and T'Challa shoved himself into Cindy's eager mouth, then into Natasha's mouth, alternating strokes with his balls dragging over their cleavage.

Peggy looked on in approval for a few moments, enjoying the show. Then she got down on all fours, lowering herself to where Natasha's perfect ass knelt atop her bent legs. She spread the firm cheeks, Natasha gagging on T'Challa as she realized her old SO would be going down on her. The moment T'Challa pulled free, she cried "Yes, Director, suck me!"

Peggy, though, didn't have that intention quite yet. She ran her tongue flutteringly up the crack of Natasha's ass, teasing Natasha's tight anal hole, hoping to taste someone's cum. Spidey's or Bruce's, even, if not T'Challa's. But nothing. Shame. Natasha had a tight little hole and knew how to open it up just right. Someone should be taking advantage of that.

Well, Peggy thought to herself, 'someone' would. She slid her tongue into Natasha's anus, enjoying having those smooth cheeks dance in her face, hearing Natasha pant with obscene desire. The girl couldn't even suck cock, she was too wild for ol' Peggy Carter's tongue.

"Do my cunt!" Natasha begged, arm around Silk just to stay up right as she took an asshole full of tongue. But she knew it would take tongue on her pussy, her clit, for her to really get off.

Peggy lowered herself further, turning onto her back and wiggling underneath Natasha's spread thighs. She could look up, all the way up Natasha's body, and see how Natasha was kissing Silk around T'Challa's big cock. She touched Natasha's labia gently, rubbing her fingers over it momentarily, then spreading it open, slipping her tongue inside and lapping eagerly. Her mouth filled with Natasha's overflowing juices and she moaned with the taste, with the joy of hot cunt in her face and around her tongue.

"Mmmm…" she purred, "mmmm…" Her head wiggled gently, mouth clamped to Natasha's cunt, as Cindy picked up the abandoned dildo and thought to use it on herself. She certainly had enough experience, living in that bunker…

T'Challa was fascinated by Peggy eating Natasha's cunt; Natasha, who by Peggy's own admission was like a daughter to her. It seemed perverted and depraved in the best possible way. He leaned over the kneeling Natasha, trying to see how Peggy's tongue interacted with Natasha's succulent pussy, how her lips pulled at Natasha's explosive clit.

Peggy rolled her tongue all the way up and off Natasha's cunt before looking up at T'Challa, almost subconsciously smacking her lips. "Fuck my cunt, you naughty beggar. Fuck my cunt while I suck Natasha's."

T'Challa needed no coaxing. He moved behind Natasha, to the prone body that Natasha was straddling, and kneeled between Peggy's spread legs. Peggy reached down, unerringly finding his prick with her hands even as she ate Natasha out. She guided him to her cunt, then slid her hands up to cup his balls as his cock slid inside her with a lurch.

Peggy's hips rolled wildly as she met T'Challa's lunges, her body threatening to fly off the ground were it not for Natasha's voluptuous flesh kneeling on her face, holding her down. Peggy closed her eyes for a long moment, savoring the taste of Natasha's sex and the feel of T'Challa inside her. When she opened her eyes, Cindy was above her. Standing in front of the kneeling Natasha and forcing the redhead's mouth to her groin. Just as she was being eaten out, Natasha was licking furiously into Cindy's pussy, slamming her tongue into cunt.

Cindy, having watched and masturbated for some time now, was nearly at her peak. She fucked her cunt up and down on Natasha's tongue, feeling like she was melting, feeling like she was liquid heat. Natasha fed her a little more tongue and she gasped, crying out "Gonna cum!"

It was enough to make Natasha join her, getting off as she buried her face between Cindy's thighs, having her mouth filled with cream as she poured an equal dose into Peggy, giving and receiving, lost and found.

Peggy drank Natasha's juices greedily, in ecstasy. Ecstasy compounded by having T'Challa pump into her, rocking her body even as she tried to receive Natasha's ejaculation, so that it fell all over her face instead of just going into her mouth. She _clenched, _feeling Natasha's wet warmth across her brow, and that was enough for T'Challa. His cock bucked violently inside her, and he roared as he exploded in stream after stream, Peggy's cunt melting on his spurting prick as well. She seemed to be an ocean inside, an ocean that rose and rose—perhaps being fed by the sweet nectar she gulped down from Natasha, the nectar Natasha was drinking from Cindy.

All linked together, they shared themselves fully, moving in unison, sucking and fucking with equal relish. Like some experimental machine, they sped up with T'Challa's pitched ejaculation, then slowly ground down once their fuel was expended. Cindy fell to her knees; T'Challa stood and faced her with his cock still hard, She took it in her mouth, sucking him to a luster. Natasha went to Peggy's well-fucked cunt, ending up cheek to cheek with a woken Melissa as she sucked T'Challa's cum out. They nursed more voraciously at that whitened cunt than they had ever sucked cunt before.

T'Challa pulled away from Cindy; reaching down, he prepared to pull her up for another fuck, but she collapsed right out of his grip. He turned instead toward the sound of footsteps approaching. Psylocke and Spider-Woman were facing him. Both naked. Jess's green eyes were pale and innocent. Betsy's moist lips were curled into a smile.

"Save any for us?" Betsy asked, her rolling British accent doing just as much as Cindy's mouth had to get him hard.

With the same innocent-eyed stare, her fingers reached out to explore the diameters of his cock. The more she traced the bulging shape of his prick, the bigger that shape became.

Jess shouldered past her, putting a little kiss on T'Challa's chin, then on his upper lip. Teasingly. Baiting him. Their mouths met and T'Challa grabbed Jess's waist, pulling her to his chest as Betsy squeezed his cock. Rubbing it against her well-sized breasts, letting him feel the heat of her body vividly.

"We've got things to play with too," Betsy said, and T'Challa nodded, kissing Jess once more before pulling on her hair to make her bare her large, pink-tipped breasts to him. His other hand moved over them, fondling them wonderingly, feeling her body heave with a sigh of delight.

Jess rose, putting her hand on T'Challa's chin, turning him to face her, pressing her mouth to his with her tongue wet and eager. She pushed against him as Betsy had, her hard-pointed breasts jabbing into his bare forearm. Already, T'Challa could feel Betsy's hands stroking his chest, urging him to return to her, kissing her, fondling her.

With a hand on both women, he fell flat on his back, pulling them down with him. He tugged Jess up to his face, cupping her ass as she straddled him, finding her clitoris, assaulting it until she was writhing frantically, groaning, screaming.

"Yes! Yesss…! Kiss me all over! Kiss my cunt! And then… then…"

"Then he'll do to you," Betsy said, throwing a leg over his lap, "what he's doing to me."

She lowered herself to his cock, intent on riding it just as Jess was riding his tongue. While Cindy, Natasha, Peggy, Melissa—they all watched.

Sometimes—not always, T'Challa reminded himself, but sometimes—it was good to be the king.


End file.
